ROM
“We are not delaying the wedding, Cosimo,” Mother said in a clipped voice.
Gone was the serene, warm woman the rest of the world knew, and in her place was the dictator who’d raised us.
When it came to the family, Vita Ferraro sorted people into two categories: useful or useless. You’d better fucking pray you were the former.
Cosimo was stiff in an armchair, his jaw tight. They’d been going at it since we sat down for our Friday morning meeting. I had news, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
I was still pissed at myself for not recognizing Mia. No wonder she’d seemed familiar. I had a whole fucking file on her. But she hadn’t looked like the prim and proper woman Morales dragged up on stage with him. Not with her hair mussed, her eyes wide, and that raspberry lipstick smudged on her lips as she stared up at me all scared while looking freshly fucked.
Heat pooled in my veins. Somehow, the fact that she was who she was didn’t stop my cock from twitching when I thought of that image.
“Why don’t you make Romolo marry her?” Cosimo snapped, pulling me back.
“Me? Married?” I drawled. “Hilarious, Cos.”
I didn’t do relationships. I definitely didn’t do marriage. Any woman who would even consider tying herself to me for more than a few weeks had to seriously hate herself. Case in point—Harper. My reputation generally prevented anyone from getting those kinds of ideas about me.
Mother pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is getting tiresome.”
“We’ve already delayed the wedding twice. At your request, Cosimo,” Dad said calmly as he trimmed a bonsai tree at his desk. Six more sat on the windowsill. “Your work is never going to get less busy.”
Cosimo’s fists tightened over his knees. “It might. We can delay it again.”
Mother shook her head. “Enough. This alliance is happening. We’ll need Rafaele Messero’s support if Morales wins and pursues his agenda against us.”
I had a hunch about why Cosimo was so resistant to marrying Fabiana and it had nothing to do with work. But he hadn’t come to me for advice and I wasn’t going to get involved in his business unless asked. I had my own shit to deal with.
Plus, he was the eldest. Next in line after Dad. There was no question he’d get married to who he was told to. He just needed to get the fuck over it.
“Let’s move on,” Dad said. “Speaking of the election… What’s the latest?”
Cosimo’s jaw ticked. “Wilson’s numbers are continuing their sad descent in the polls. Morales’s people still won’t return our calls.”
I cracked my neck. Rupert Wilson had been our guy, but no amount of money seemed to be doing the trick this time around. He was deeply unpopular, and Morales was winning.
“We know whoever is backing Morales has a vendetta against us,” Alessio said. “Have we gone one by one through that—probably very long—list of people?”
My father’s expression gave nothing away. “We did. It didn’t yield anything.”
Mother shot him a look—one of those looks that were laden with unspoken meaning.
Secrets. So many fucking secrets between them.
They had a partnership that was legendary in our circles. She was the yin to his yang. He loved her. Was obsessed with her.
And her? I wasn’t convinced that woman was capable of love, but if she was, our dad would be the only one on the receiving end of that emotion.
She moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder while he snipped at his bonsai tree. “We should go over the list again, Gino. See if we missed anyone.”
Dad’s gaze lifted to her, an indulgent smile on his lips. “As you wish.”
She bent down and kissed the top of his head.
I looked out the window so that I didn’t have to watch them. I hated seeing her affectionate with him—the way she’d never been with me or my brothers. She pretended in public—she was a great actress—but it was all an act.
Vita Ferraro wasn’t who people thought she was. Not even close.
I dragged my tongue over my teeth and turned back to them. The sooner I told them what I’d discovered, the sooner I could get the fuck out of here and prep for the meeting I had planned this afternoon. “I have an update. Harper was a bust, but I’ve found a better target.”
“We’re all ears, Romolo,” Mother said, her fingers drumming against the desk. Her voice was smooth but threaded with impatience. Because of my failures to get us something we could use against Morales over the last six months, I was teetering dangerously close to the useless category she despised so much.
“Mia. His daughter. She was at Cosimo’s party last night.”
The drumming stopped.
I savored the stunned look on my mother’s face. It was like I’d detonated a bomb in my father’s office. Catching her off guard was rare. Satisfying.
Rising from my seat, I buttoned my jacket. “She’s friends with Fabiana, apparently. But from the look on her face, I don’t think she had any idea what she was walking into. I found her hiding in one of the bedrooms.”
Cosimo let out a dry laugh. “Unbelievable.”
I brushed a bit of lint from my sleeve. “If she’s that naïve about her friend’s family, she might be a weak spot. And given how tight she seems with her dad, she could have insight into who’s backing him.”
As they absorbed that, I headed for the door, eager to be gone.
“Where are you going?” my mother called after me.
“To introduce myself properly,” I said over my shoulder, stepping into the hall.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled, tension easing from my spine. It always felt like I could breathe better once I was out of Mother’s line of sight.
Now onto the fun part.
I rolled my shoulders, letting the anticipation take over—the memory of wide, frightened eyes and trembling lips humming in my blood. A slow smirk curved my mouth.
Let’s see what Mia Morales is really made of.
